The Final Chance
by seabluemermaid
Summary: Following Fin Del Camino, an alternate possibility to what could happen with Michael, Linc, Mahoneand the Christina Rose. I don't own PB. Chapter 2 is up! Please let me know what you think!
1. Chapter 1

**THE FINAL CHANCE**

**CHAPTER 1**

Linc Burrows wasn't going anywhere, not with those handcuffs binding him. It didn't matter, though. Alex wasn't taking any chances. He wasn't stepping far enough away to give the fugitive a chance to escape, but far enough where he'd have some modicum of privacy.

He held the cell phone to his ear, counting off the rings impatiently. Something hadn't sounded right to him in Pam's voice that last time he'd spoken to her. She'd been a little cool to him, a little aloof. He hadn't wanted to admit that before, so excited about the prospect of being together with his family again. Alex had wanted to hold on to whatever small sliver of hope there was left for him to hang onto.

Hope was something that was in so short a supply right now. At least, in his life, that was true.

His heart jumped when he heard her voice on the other end. "Alex?"

"Yeah, Pam, hi. Listen, uh—"

"Alex, I can't really talk right now. Not on this phone."

Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes. Then he opened them and surveyed the ceiling in that old warehouse.

He _knew_ something was wrong.

"Who went to see you?" he asked in a husky voice.

"That man from Internal Affairs, Sullins."

"Uh-huh. Pam, I know you can't talk. But, okay, uh—I need to get a number where I can—"

As he was patting his jacket in search of a pen, he heard her say, "Alex, look, I'm sorry. This isn't going to work."

_No, no, no, no!_ He paced in front of the window, biting back the urge to release a choked cry of pain like a wild animal caught in a hunter's trap.

"You—you said you weren't saying no," he recited her words back to her.

"I know what I said. I'm not saying no. But, Alex, I am saying I _can't_ do this."

Again he patted his jacket. He found a pen, all right. The magic pen. The one that he needed like crazy right now. The hollowed-out one that saved his sanity for him.

"Look, Pam, everything's going to be all right—"

"No, Alex, no! It is _not_ going to be all right!" she half shouted into the phone. He heard her sigh and then, "You're facing murder charges, Alex. And you were involved with—with some people who tried to kill our little boy."

"Pam, listen to me—"

"You never said a word about that to me. You haven't thought to explain any of it, Alex. I deserved to know what was going on."

"Pam, please—"

"Now you listen to _me_. You're not thinking rationally, Alex. You fled the country and now you want—what? For me to pack up everything, take Cam, and go on the run with you? Are we supposed to ride off into the sunset together? Do you think those people would really let us do that?"

He slumped against a column for support. Chewed down his pills, dry, no water, as always. They tasted like chalk; they turned his stomach. He was so tired of that taste. So tired of being a junkie.

Feeling someone's gaze on him, Alex looked up. Burrows was watching him, one eyebrow arched curiously. Alex set his jaw firmly and glared at him.

"Mind your own freakin' business!" he barked.

"What did you say?" Pam demanded hotly.

"No—not you, not you. Oh, God, Pam . . . " Turning toward the window, he lowered his voice. "Pam, for God's sake, please call me later on. On another number, okay? I know this looks bad, baby. But I promise you I'm—I'm gonna make this right."

"You can't make this right, Alex. You can't. There are some things that are just out of your control. This is one of them."

"Pam, please don't—don't make me beg, sweetheart." His voice broke, forcing him to stop momentarily. "Everything, everything I did, I did for you and Cam. To protect you both."

"I'm sure, Alex. I'm sure your heart was in the right place. I'm sure you thought that's what you were doing. But that's not a life for a child, Alex. Being on the run forever, that's no life for Cam. You know that, deep down. You're a good man. And you were a good husband to me and a good father to Cam. And I've never stopped loving you, either."

The sound of her voice now breaking tore at his heart. "But I have to put Cam first. Can you understand that? Please. Our son has to come before everything else. Even before you, Alex."

"I know, I know, Pam. I agree with that, but—"

_Click._ The line went dead in his ear. The end of the discussion.

For nearly a full minute, Alex stared numbly at the phone, as if that would get her back on the line. He could call her, certainly—but he knew what would happen. In all likelihood, Pam would let it go to voicemail. He couldn't leave a message. Not with Sullins dogging his every move.

Fighting off the urge to hurl the cell against the wall violently enough to destroy it, Alex replaced it in his jacket pocket. Burrows—damn Burrows—he was still watching, still staring. Holding on to whatever meager grain of pride he had left, Alex rolled his shoulders. Brushed his hair with his hands, so that he didn't look like a total lunatic. Walked back toward his hostage.

"Hope that kid brother of yours gets here soon," he muttered, letting it be known he was in control of any topic discussed.

"Or you'll what, Mahone?" Burrows challenged. "You'll kill me?"

"Hey, you're as smart as Mikey, huh?" Alex laughed. "Well, maybe not _as_ smart. He's smarter than you. I think he's smarter than me, too . . . sometimes."

"He _is_. That's a fact."

Alex stared at him with the severity of a hawk. "Awww. That's somethin', huh? The proud big brother!"

Burrows shrugged. "What would killing me accomplish? It's, um . . . it's all been for nothing. Hasn't it, Alex? Abruzzi. Tweener. Haywire. You killed them all, and what do you have to show for it? Looks like nothin'."

"_Shut your damn mouth!"_ Alex raged at him. That wasn't enough, though. Drawing his gun, he pinned it against the back of Burrows' head. "Not a good time to screw with me, man!" he threatened through gritted teeth. "Not a good time at all! I'll blow you straight into hell, you bastard!"

Burrows said nothing. To his credit, neither did the man cower. Alex was careful around him, careful not to position himself in a manner that would give his hostage a chance to gain the upper hand again. Even with the cuffs, he could fight like a riled-up longshoreman. Alex could still taste blood in his mouth from the beating Lincoln had just given him not that long ago.

Although a beating wouldn't have been so bad. He already felt beat-up on the inside and ached worse than when he'd felt Burrows' fists pummeling him. Pam's rejection had hurt more than any heavyweight champion's fists ever could.

"You kill me, you get no money, man. No boat," Linc reminded him. "You got nothing to bargain with Michael, you do that. So I suggest you calm your ass down. Let those happy pills of yours work their magic."

Alex backed up a step. He could have pistol-whipped him, caught him off guard. Knocked him straight into La-La Land. That would've shut him up.

But Alex knew he had to face the truth: He was too wounded to care anymore. He couldn't deal with Burrows right now. Luckily, he didn't have to deal with Schofield right now, either. With Michael, he knew he'd have to be alert, sharp as a knife.

Sticking the gun back into his belt, he sniffed and rubbed his face.

"I'm gonna get her back," he said, more to himself. "I'm gonna get my family back."

Over his shoulder he glanced at Burrows. The swarthy man wouldn't lift his head. Alex understood; basically, Linc was tuning him out, unwilling to provoke him any further.

Well, fine. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? For him to shut the hell up, mind his own business?

Except Alex had managed to alienate the nearest person, the only person right now, who could sympathize with what he was going through. Someone who knew intimately what it felt like to stand in that loneliest of places, when a man realizes he has lost everything and has nothing left. Nothing.

The only difference between them, Alex knew, was that Lincoln Burrows hadn't lost himself. His was a tragedy, though not as tragic as Alex's. Lincoln could look in the mirror and not hate himself, through and through. And he still had a brother, his own flesh and blood, who loved him enough to sacrifice everything for him, even laying down his own life for him.

Alex collapsed against the wall. He hated how close he'd just come to killing this man, a man who was, unlike him, innocent.

Funny, in that awful, strange way. All that was left of the life he'd once had and the love of a family he would always adore were shadows. Shadows that he could watch and reach for, but like shadows, they could never be touched. . . .


	2. Chapter 2

**THE FINAL CHANCE**

**Chapter 2**

This was it.

Showtime.

Michael Schofield bounded up the rusted stairs on the Panamanian warehouse's exterior with more energy than he actually felt right then. He didn't feel energetic or strong at all; all he felt was a soul-draining weariness. Though, admittedly, that fatigue wasn't overpowering enough to diminish the longing inside him, the one that burned like a wildfire through every inch of him.

The fact that he could still feel anything at all anymore was a miracle. He knew he couldn't take credit for that, either. After everything that had happened, after all the hell he'd been through, the reason he hadn't lost his soul was due to two people. One was his brother.

The other was someone who was part woman, part angel, everything he could ever ask for in this life.

But he had to be alert. He had one more thing to do, or so he hoped this would be it.

He entered the room, the door closing with a dull thud behind him. It took about a second, no more, before the familiar face came into view, and Michael's stare drew instantly to the weapon steadfastly trained on him.

_This one again_, he thought with more than irritation.

Mahone smirked at him. Behind him stood Linc, handcuffed to a long, thin pipe, staring back helplessly at his younger brother.

"Promise me you'll change the name of the boat," Michael quipped as he raised his hands and approached the rogue FBI agent slowly. "I'm sure my mother wouldn't have approved of you."

"Aw, c'mon, little buddy. You know we would've just found a way to see each other on the sly," the older man joked with a deep wink. "Now where is that lovely lady, the _Christina Rose_?"

"Right outside."

"Good man!" Mahone's cell went off. In a genteel tone he told Michael, "I gotta take this, okay? Eh, how rude, huh?" Into the phone he said, "Hello, Mr. Kim…I'm _in_ the warehouse." He didn't say it, but the unspoken last words might have been, _you idiot._

Michael waited until he flicked shut the phone. "Come on, Alex. You got the money and the boat. Is this the part where you go back on your word?"

A part of him froze as he watched Mahone pull a key ring from his pants pocket. He tossed it roughly at him, missing Michael's face only because he ducked.

"There's the key. Free your brother. Now where'd you say the money is?"

Confused, Michael exchanged a glance with Linc, who was frowning at the back of Mahone's head.

"You're—you're letting us—" Michael began.

"I'm letting you go, yeah. And the money?" Mahone gave a little whistle. "Come on, kid. We don't have all day. Where's the damn money?"

The door opened again. In stepped Mr. Kim, dressed in a suit, as usual. To Michael's satisfaction, he didn't appear as cocky as he had in the past, his dark eyes darting from the brothers to his associate, like an animal being stalked on all sides by predators. Like a cowardly weasel, to be precise.

"You said we'd have them where we want them, Alex," he said. "This is not where we want them. Seems to me this is a problem. Something that—" Mahone shifted the gun from Michael to his new target—Kim himself. "—like that."

"You know what, Mr. Kim? I owe you an apology. I brought you all the way down here for nothing." Mahone tilted his head to the side, giving a contrite shrug of one shoulder. "I know, I know. It sucks."

In the meantime, Michael hastily worked the key in the cuff's lock, though he could see that Linc, who'd loosened the pipe, would have freed himself in a matter of moments anyway. Instinctively he could tell that this situation was about to blow like a gas station set on fire. He lifted his head, trying to figure out a way to escape. There were two obstacles to his freedom and Linc's, and those were the two men who'd dogged their every step since they'd left Fox River.

The two men who were now in opposition to each other.

"I was going to kill you and frame these two men," Alex went on. "Clever, huh? That way, everybody would've left me alone. I could've taken the boat and the money and Burrows and his brother, well—they'd rot away in some hellhole Panamanian prison for your murder. I could've had my life back with my wife and kid."

At that, he cocked the gun. Michael had to grin at the slight jump Bill Kim gave at that sound.

"But you've changed your mind," Kim said, trying to appear cool while the color drained from his face.

"Yes. Yes, I did. My wife isn't coming now. I've lost my family. I've lost my career. I lost everything." Mahone's lower lip quivered, but then he seemed to force himself to straighten, though his voice shook with raw emotion. "So for me to ruin these two men's lives…that'd be pointless now. I'm tired of all this and I can't keep going this way. I just—I can't. And I'm not gonna let this man and his brother take the rap for murdering a worthless little bastard like you."

Then he smiled. A sad smile, his blue eyes devoid of their shine and life. "So I guess I'll have to take the credit for this one. And you know what, Mr. Kim? This time when I kill, I'm not gonna have any nightmares over it."

It sent a chill through Michael, that change in the former fed's demeanor when he squeezed the trigger. The humanity disappeared, but yet it was there, somewhere, under all the filth of the lies and deception that had brought that man to that unspeakable place.

There were two shots—loud, blaring, heart-stopping. One of the bullets darkened Kim's white shirt with a ghastly blotch of crimson, the other that left a bullet hole in his forehead. And then he slumped to the floor, the last ray of life slipping immediately from his eyes.

Mahone's breathing suddenly turned heavy. He whirled around on his heel to face Michael and demanded, "You got your brother. Now I'm only asking you one more time, and I'm warning you, I've got lots of bullets left. Where's the freakin' money?"

"It's not here, Alex."

"It's not here? _Where_ _the hell is it_?" Alex bellowed through gritted teeth. "Don't tell me this is the part where _you_ go back on _your_ word, kid. I don't want to hear this. I'm giving you and your brother your freedom. I need the money more than you do, dammit. If I have the money, I can try and get Pam—"

The door at the top of the stairs exploded open. Michael threw his head back to see two men burst in, weapons drawn, and a shower of bullets piercing the air. He only had time to see Mahone shoot back, killing one of the men instantly, before he grabbed hold of Linc and ran together with him behind a pile of crates for cover.

Narrowly, he was able to escape the warehouse with Linc, still hearing the guns firing behind them. With the adrenaline flaming through him, Michael found himself moving with almost supernatural speed, because it couldn't end here. Both he and Linc had come so far, and now Bill Kim was dead, and too much had been lost already.

He stopped to see Alex Mahone fleeing the warehouse behind them. Apparently, he didn't see them, so intent on reaching the _Christina Rose._ Michael was dumbfounded by his reaction to seeing him, alive and unharmed if perhaps shaken by the battle, as if the knowledge that his nemesis hadn't died in that shootout in the warehouse brought him unexpected relief.

_So for me to ruin these two men's lives…that'd be pointless now. I'm tired of all this and I can't keep going this way._

"Hold on, Linc," he said, stopping his brother from running with a hand on his shoulder. "No—go on. I'll catch up with you."

"Where are you—_Michael_!" his brother shouted.

"Just run, Linc. I'm coming. I have to stop him."

Before Linc could argue with him, Michael turned and headed swiftly in the direction of the _Christina Rose_, bobbing gently there in the marina. Even before he caught sight of him, he knew he would see Alex there—hunched over, frantically fighting with the rope that bound the vessel to its slip at the dock. He could hear him muttering to himself, saying, "C'mon, c'mon" under his breath, unaware of exactly where that sail into the sea would lead him.

"Alex, stop!" Michael called to him.

He could hear Mahone mumble a cuss word at him, bending over again to yank at the rope.

"You got the money, but I got the boat!" he spat at the younger man. "You're not getting the boat, too, Schofield, that's mine! Now go to hell!"

"You don't wanna get on that boat, Alex."

"Yeah, whatever. You're as much to blame for this as Kim was, okay?" Alex sputtered back stubbornly. "Now get outta here before I change my—"

"Alex, you don't wanna get on that boat. Listen to me." Finally catching his breath after running, Michael frowned and looked him straight in the eye. "For me to ruin your life…that'd be pointless now."

Finally, Mahone stopped, looking at him, still bent at the waist. A gust of sea wind ruffled his hair. Michael could almost decipher the very moment that he saw recognition flash in his former enemy's eyes, when it finally became clear what was being left unsaid.

"Aww…dammit," was all Alex could say.

"Come with me. Just come with me," Michael urged. He glanced back over his shoulder at the men advancing toward them. "Please, Alex. Hurry…."

_Sorry for the delay! Hope to have Chapter 3 up soon. A big thank-you to all who read & commented! Let me know if you enjoyed this one._


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